Finding New Hope
by I.J.Girl
Summary: In the aftermath of Argon's destruction, Beck is weighed with guilt from his inability to save his City. Going out on his own, he learns to master the Outlands and becomes an valuable asset to the Revolution in Tron City...But in the process is caught in debt to Zuse. To pay him back, Zuse pairs him with the last person he thought he'd see again: a vengeful Paige after the Renegade
1. Previously, on

**Hi! ^^ I have been really obsessed with Tron:Uprising lately, so I thought I'd write a fanfic for it. And I decided to tie it in with Legacy, so it's sort of an AU as well? I don't know, check it out, and if you like it, please leave a review! ^^**

Orange and blue lights flashed and danced across her helmet as the comforting purr of a lightcycle enveloped her body, speeding through streets glowing with the buzz of activity and programs scrambling to get home before curfew with laughter and promises to meet again.

The program on the cycle sped on, trying to let the rest of the Grid turn into a blur around her as a pang of bitterness tugged at her soul at the sight of the happy, oblivious programs running around the city. They had a purpose, they had a home.

Things she hadn't had for many weary cycles now.

The light cycle slid to a stop, and she straightened up, derezzing the vehicle back into a baton from under her legs. Slipping the baton into a pocket in her suit, she glanced up at the abandoned building on the outskirts of the city she temporarily resided in. With a soft sigh, she shoved open the broken door, which lit up with blue, sensitive lines in protest to being manhandled so. Slipping in through the crack she managed to pry open, she pushed it shut again, turning to face her ramshackle dwelling with a slump in her shoulders, and a soul crushing weariness in her brown eyes.

Stumbling forward, the walls around her lit up with wanted posters, flipping around with images of the most recent criminals, some which were ruthless and cruel and others who were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time and somehow managed to get away. Among them was her own picture, circuits glowing red and orange in complete loyalty to her cause, to the Army, to Clu...To perfection and peace.

Now her primary circuits were white, the color of a civilian, with secondary green circuits. She had chosen green both to honor her past and to try and blend in to her surroundings, to melt into the crowds and avoid capture, instead of keeping the orange she would have preferred. Playing around with the design of her hair only brought frustration, so she had simply allowed her hair to grow evenly, brushing against the back of her shoulders and her bangs covering half her face.

Collapsing onto a platform that served as bed for her, she stared up at the ceiling, which she had covered with a map of the entire Grid, little white dots blinking; the vast majority situated around the now Occupation-free Argon City. Clu's arrival threw the army into a craze, providing just the right distraction for the citizens of Argon to regroup and attack, effectively overthrowing all of Tesler's efforts to Occupy the city.

She frowned, her full lips thinning in thought. Clu had done nothing to try and retake Argon, instead choosing to place strategic bombs across the City, blowing up energy supplies while effectively splitting Argon off of the mainland and creating an unstable canyon between Argon and any where else.

An uncontrollable shudder ran through her body at the thought of that canyon. Argon's citizens had fled the City in every aircraft possible; since they had rebelled against Clu, he offered no relief or compassion, watching from his throne with almost exhausted eyes as the programs ran out of energy and in desperation, tried to make it across the rift in watercraft, only to be swept away by powerful, tumultuous currents, ships torn open by jagged rocks, and survivors pulled deep underwater to drown. For days, the water glowed with the remains of thousands of programs taking suicide trips across and even Tesler quietly questioned the siege. He had little to no regard for the lives of individual programs, but a massacre of these proportions was a bit much even for him...

Those were his last words.

_Watching Tesler derezz and collapse at her feet, she took a shocked step back, eyes wide as she stared at Clu, mere inches away from her. The program took a deep breath, disk whirring, before raising his gaze to look at her. She fought back shock and dismay at the empty, exhausted blue eyes boring into hers, as if trying to leech out her energy, her life force to be able to keep going, before giving up and moving away. Docking his disk onto his back, he collapsed back into his chair, his loyal second in command, Jarvis, hovering and quietly reporting._

_Had she not been a soldier and programed to face the deaths of those close to her, she would have collapsed then and there, and cried over the pile of cubes that had once been the program that saved and sheltered her and given her a second chance at life. Instead, she solemnly bent down, gently brushing the cubes away until she found his disk. Holding it, she closed her eyes in sorrow before turning away, briskly making her way out of the room. Mechanically making her way to the hangar of the ship, she found herself in front of the armory._

_The guard had regarded her for a moment, "State your business, Commander."_

_The disk in her hand involuntary lit up, and with a grunt, she slashed it across his helmet without second thought, kicking him back and slamming her elbow against the back of his head, effectively knocking him out. Standing over the guard, she stopped, trying to make herself think again, trying to make things make sense again; the pain in her arm from the guard's light staff was dull and she almost couldn't feel it over the thrumming of the energy in her head._

_Reaching into the armory, she stuffed all the light jets into the bag slung over her shoulder. (Had she gotten that while wandering the halls of the ship in numb shock?)_

Enemy of the State.

_The words hit her, suddenly, her programming protesting the senseless actions she was performing, but the guard's groan kept her from delving too deeply into the reasons for her actions. Taking off, she found her way to the open hatch, rushing forward and jumping into the air, opening a light jet baton and soaring into Argon airspace. Looking down at the darkened, silenced city, she felt a deep weight settle over her shoulders. A few cycles ago the streets had been a hubbub of energy and light and programs running around, getting back to their jobs, going to meet friends or simply holding hands and treasuring each other._

_A single, enraged tear streamed down her face, and she searched the city for specks of light, finding one and turning towards it. Circling Argon Square, she was greeted by programs rolling barrels around, trying to cut them open, trying to get at the military grade energy inside. Letting her helmet slide over her face, she soared into the middle of the square, which caused the startled programs to pull their disks. _

_She derezzed her light jet, landing with her feet moving into the small crowd._

"_I've come to help."_

She felt a pang of guilt at the fact that after relentlessly fighting for Clu and perfection, she had turned around and acted like the Renegade.

Her hand gripped the edge of the bed, whitening as a burning anger welled up within her, accompanied by a deep sorrow that preyed on her every waking hour.

It was all _his_ fault.

"Come on, it's not much further!"

The shout was drowned out by the screaming winds that howled and battered against the cliffs in the Outlands, the tempestuous storm's sole purpose seeming to be to destroy the programs below. Perhaps the sole consolation they were to have was that Grid-bugs were unable to come out of their nooks and crannies in the rocks and the ground.

Beck wound the light rope tightly around his hand, tugging the programs attached to the other end along to ensure they weren't separated. His black helmet protected his face from the relentless battering of the sandpaper like wind that ground away at his exposed fingers. The cold of the Outland winds chilled him despite the thick, heat absorbing jacket he wore. The pants he wore(swiped off of a knocked out guard whom he had left strung upside down in his under suit because life had gotten too dreary and he needed a reason to laugh) were loose on him and the wind seemed to like to try and pull them off despite the belt he wore.

The ground below his and the other two programs feet slowly sloped upwards, and he gratefully flattened himself against the black stone that formed the cliff wall, lessening the wind's pull on his body, as the minimal light lines he wore on the outside of his coat and the default ones on the pants flickered in the blinding snow, his mid-calf combat boots digging into the slick surface below for traction.

As his hand stretched out ahead, running along the grooves of the weathered rock, he sighed in relief when it finally gave way to emptiness, and tugged on the rope a little harder, turning into a small cave he could barely walk in without scraping the top of his head against the black rock. Although the howling wind had nearly deafened him, the two programs' sighs of relief were nearly audible through his helmet. He smiled, although even if he retracted his helmet they wouldn't have been able to see it. The cave was pitch black, with the exception of the minimal circuitry that the programs sported, and, as they collapsed against the cave walls and slid down to sit, the lights were even dimmer from their positions. Beck retracted his helmet, taking in the smell of the wind free cave. Faintly, he could pick up traces of dead pixels (which smelled of chemicals and salt) and energy.

He had come across several caves of this type during the two cycles (16.000 hours, a rough approximation to two User years inside the Grid. Outside was another story.) spent scrounging around after Argon was destroyed. The outlands had become almost a second home to him after the destruction and mass reprogramming of the programs of Argon, being his only safe haven from both Clu's armies and the few surviving programs of Argon; most of which blamed the Renegade or Tron for the death and loss of thousands. Beck swallowed a lump in his throat, shouldering the responsibility without shirking, briefly wondering what Tron would think of what he was doing in his name before shoving the thought to a secret compartment in his mind to be forgotten.

Placing his hands against the wall, he blindly followed it to the back of the cave, pulling out his re-coder and plugging it in. The cave wall lit up, revealing itself to be a thick, complex door. Beck's face lit with a brief smile as he reminded himself for the umpteenth time to thank Zed for his design if he ever came across his old friend if he ever came across him and Mara in one of the cities freed by the Resistance.

The door was designed to only open from the inside, making the only other possible way to open it by re-coder; the locking mechanism was much like the sort found in hand cuffs. Beck easily found the unique combination to this door, and pulling off the re-coder, the door hissed and lifted up slowly with a groan.

Within, a pool of glowing energy swirled in the spacious cave, outfitted with two triple decker bunk beds and a tiny bathroom in the back. Stacked against the walls were PADDs left behind by other occupants to help pass the long quiet hours. Lights streamed around the edges of the walls and the edges of the beds, as well as from the principal light fixture in the middle of the room.

Beck turned to the two female programs, who stared wide eyed at the room, luxurious compared to their normal accommodations.

"If you stay here for a couple of centicycles, your faces probably will be removed from the wanted posters in Tron City and the D.O.G.S should be thrown off your trail."

"And what do we do in the mean time?"

Beck ushered them in the room, looking down at the short young woman, whose blue eyes echoed hope and perhaps just a hint of infatuation. He smiled softly, remembering Mara in Argon at a better time.

"You're going to be on the run from now on. I recommend you sleep. A lot. And soundly. You don't know when you'll be able to do that again. But if you can't, then train. Get ready for anything that might come your way."

Not knowing what else to say, he awkwardly patted her shoulder, wondering if this was how Tron had felt with him. Stepping out of the way, he pushed the button on the door, which slid shut, effectively cutting the young rebels out of his life once more.

He hovered at the edge of the cave entrance, hand gripping the wall as he swayed with the sound of the wind, powerful and destructive and yet soothing at times. His shoulders sagged, yielding briefly to the ache running through his soul. Eyes closed, he sighed, tilting his head back for a moment, a thought tangling in Tron's direction before he brushed it away, directing it towards the little cities that were free from Clu's rule, thanks to small, organized pockets of revolution which effectively fought off even the largest of Clu's battalions thanks to self-sufficiency and careful, calculated planning.

The Renegade had occasionally checked in with these small cities, but other than apologies and being told how Argon's destruction had inspired them to finally stir out of their lethargy and free themselves, he wasn't met with much more than disinterest and the occasional one-time mission to lead.

Tron had once told him that he was to become a symbol. A symbol that programs didn't need to sit still for Clu's rule, to watch as friends and loved ones were shipped off to the Games or terrorized just for the sake of perfection. That they could resist, push back...they could rise up and become something new, something better, replace the faulty commands with something better...

Beck sighed, his helmet rezzing up over his face as he stepped out into the cold again.

He was a symbol alright.

A symbol of what happened when programs played at being someone they could never aspire to. A symbol of ineptitude to stop Clu, to stop the destruction he had set into action.

He was certain all the programs knew that he truly wasn't Tron. He had heard the whispers of the champion at Tron City, a security program that excelled above all other programs, perhaps even greater than the mighty fallen Tron himself. Perhaps it _was _Tron. Rumors spread like viral code, and he had even heard far-fetched ones of _Rinzler _actually being a re purposed Kevin Flynn – A user demoted to the rank of a service program.

He knew _that_ wasn't true.

The cold slowly seeped through his coding once more, and he made his way down the cliff, abandoning his thoughts to the storm as he shifted his focus to survival. The blizzard churned and shrieked against his helmet as he squinted to make out the ground he was placing his feet on, blinking when he thought he saw specks of light in the distance. Freezing in his tracks, he activated his long distance visor, grunting in resignation when it didn't make any difference in his vision and deactivating it. Nope, no lights.

Trudging on, he made his way through the Outlands, sighing in relief when the wind abated enough that he could use the snow runner. Riding on until the storm was left behind, he glanced behind him.

Nope.

There were definitely lights back there.

Mentally cursing to himself, he derezzed the snow runner, turning to face the blinking lights moving around the rocks and the plains. Squinting, he bit down a gasp at the sight of a pack of D.O.G.S following him. The canine shaped programs were twice as basic as the most Basic of programs, only knowing enough to follow a trail given to them by their master, Clu and his Army.

Tron had mentioned Kevin Flynn's attempts at recreating the User-world creatures for recreational purposes, but eventually abandoning the idea as hopeless due not being able to find a balance between the programs sentience and their emotion. Unlike in the User-world, sentience seemed to be directly attached to emotions.

Clu had no need for emotion or sentience. After realizing that an entire community of programs lived out in the Outlands despite the often deadly conditions, he had assembled teams of the helmeted creatures to search and recover.

With no mouths, they couldn't bite their victims, but they would chase and terrify programs, herding them straight towards hidden groups of soldiers ready to round up the wayward programs and ship them off for re purposing.

Beck had encountered the creatures several times, once having been chased until he could barely move and pounced upon, pinned down by howling, barking creatures until he was able to pull his disk and derezz a few, offering enough distraction for him to clamber up onto a boulder that despite the creature's best attempts(And long legs) they couldn't climb. After nearly an entire millicycle of waiting, they finally backed off, and he was able to use his re-coder to fix a destroyed light jet enough for him to fly the malfuctioning thing to the nearest energy pool.

The D.O.G.S followed, howling and snarling, ready to pounce upon him again, only to stop, sniff the energy pool and excitedly run around it, yipping and dancing around the water's edge until one of them was brave enough to dive in.

Another one of Kevin Flynn's ideas had been to use them to find large energy pools underground to drill into. It had been a long shot to bring them here, but it had worked, and now he could sneak away as they drank in the glowing blue energy.

But that was far, deep in the Outlands. Here, close to the City, all the energy pools had been drained and redirected to the city. Beck rezzed his snow runner up, setting it on an automatic route to the middle of what he had nicknamed 'The Crater', an area surrounded by flat, black plains before suddenly dipping down into a bowl shape. He didn't know how it had been formed; Tron had never mentioned any such extreme geography during his time with him.

Then again geography had never really been a topic of discussion.

The snow runner buzzed off into the distance, kicking up snow and tearing at the rock floor for traction until it was little more than a blur in the distance, trailed by little orange dots.

Beck snorted in frustration. The D.O.G.S _had _been tracking the snow runner. Tron would have had his head for slipping up like that.

"Guess in this one case, it's a good thing you're not here..."

He glanced at the bright orange and white city still far away, and sighed, rubbing the back of his head and resigning himself to the long walk back. Perhaps he could get the guys off his back for just one rest cycle and sleep.

He snorted, his long legs moving across the rough terrain with an ease that had been absent two years ago. He highly doubted that Banes and Teller would let up on his assignments, since he was the only one with such an intuitive knowledge of the Outlands in the tiny group of rebels that was slowly, slowly forming in Tron City. Also since he was absolutely nobody to the government, he was the one they often sent on rescue missions to get their compatriots back from the Games and smuggle them out to the unoccupied cities until the heat died down, and brought back new recruits from said unoccupied cities.

Thanks to his almost religious avoidance of highways between the cities of the Grid, he was able to get people in and out of Cities without being seen, using tunnels and hopping buildings, all to avoid being seen by anyone.

Even so, he constantly checked the wanted list, feeling a surge of relief when his name was nowhere to be seen, and even the wanted call for the Renegade slipped down to the bottom of the list. A part of him felt excessively mournful of that fact, as if even that part of himself was beginning to disappear with Argon's dark, abandoned streets as the destabilized code slowly vanished into the sea.

A dull pain wrapped itself around his chest like the cousin of the grid-worm, the grid-leech, crushing his lungs and making his breathing chopped and erratic. Pausing mid-step, he shoved the memories, the pain into the back of his mind, where it still made an unrelenting lump in his throat, reminding him of his failure to save them.

Feeling a wave of panic and fear begin to take over him, he bent onto one knee, his fist on the ground and head bowed; he slowly began to lose control, unraveling at the seams (_what would Tron think?_) as guilt and shame and sorrow rushed at his soul, at his body, filling his consciousness like being dragged underwater by an unseen danger.

Rushing through his head and blurring his vision as he choked on air, thoughts crashed and blurred through his mind, images of derezzed programs lining every one of them as they screamed in his head, in his voice, and tried to tell him _that it'snotworthit, justdiepleasejustdie IfailedI'mnotworthy Cyruswasright Iwishitwouldalljustend._

A long, prolonged, sharp sound cut at his dulled ears as energy thrummed wildly through his entire body, and some fragmented part of him that was still conscious recognized the sound as his own voice.

Groping wildly at that part of his consciousness, he was able to ground himself into something alive again, an image of Tron consoling him before it flickered and transformed into Clu, shaking him, trying to tell him something, trying to warn him.

In shock, he mentally recoiled from the image, the backlash of the loss of connection sending him reeling back into reality, the pain releasing him so quickly it almost hurt more than before, and he could see again.

Gasping for breath, he struggled back up onto his feet, trembling wildly as he tried to push all the seams together again, cover it up and appear whole again, wiping his face of the tears he had been unconscious of crying.

Beck sighed, shoulders slumping in exhaustion as his brown eyes locked on to the far away city once more. He was definitely going to make them let him sleep. Even if they hated him for a couple of millicycles for it.


	2. Jet-Boy

**HEY guys, I finished the second chapter today! 8D I'm so proud! XD XP Thanks for the reviews, guys, I REALLY, REALLY LOVE THEM! ^^ *proceeds to shower reviewers with cookies***

Briannajs-22 **Aw, thanks, sweetie! I tried really hard to get their 'voices' right. I'm not so sure about this chapter because they're mingling with ****_people_**** which is a concept I find hard to grasp. ^^ JK. XD (AND YES, LET'S. THE POOR BOY NEEDS SOME LLooooooovvvveee!) And yup, that's where that came from. It's going to tie in eventually...**

** PrincessKai317 - Thank you, love! ^^ Have some coooookkkkiiieess! Virtual ones, of course. :P I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!**

* * *

Paige's feet refused to move as smoothly as she'd like. They dragged, the high heels hurting more because of the last fight she had against a gang master. For a moment, she contemplated eliminating them from her wardrobe, but a jolt of panic threw that idea out the door.

She smiled wryly at the thought of the gang master, gagged and cuffed at the doorstep of the military base, with her signature tucked in his cuffs – a green and black glowing flower.

It payed homage to a long erased memory of a _book _from the User-world that had made rounds in Gallium. Programs would handle the treasured thing with more care than they would have ever treated even the Users themselves, and it was held as the most valuable object they owned...Until Clu's armies arrived at the city to purge it of imperfection. In fear, the programs had hidden the book deep within the City, to keep the trinket safe.

The book had been part of an encyclopedia set, the letter B, and the begonia flower had captured her attention with it stark unlikeness to anything in the Grid, and a trickle of curiosity had sparked within her. How was the User-world capable of such beauty and such cruelty? Could Clu truly be telling them the truth about users?

That said, how could Users, living in such a beautiful world with such _natural _beauty, be so distant and unthoughtful?

Paige sighed, glancing up at the End of Line Club, her destination. The tall building stood out from it's neighbors, and she could distantly hear the drumming of music from the club at the top. For a moment, she closed her eyes, a rush of emotions blanketing her at the memories of her own hands sliding across the monome, making it sing and spark joy in her heart, a dream that had fluttered and arisen before being squashed and destroyed by the tragedy that had become her life.

With a deep breath, she followed the influx of programs making their way to the top of the building on the elevator, ignoring a tall program's eyes trailing over her body in lustful appreciation and clenching her hands into fists. Reminding herself that she didn't have a reasonable excuse for punching the guy yet, she relaxed, grateful when the doors finally slid open and the music washed over her for real. The beat drummed through her core, filling her with an almost giddy sensation that she had to choke down with her soldier programming. Making her way inside, she nearly froze at the sight of soldiers lounging on the couches, other programs sitting on their laps and giggling or running their hands over the few visible circuit lines running on their skin.

Bowing her head, she moved on past them, grateful that they were distracted, making her way to the bar. Staring at the lineup of drinks she pursed her lips and turned away, narrowing her eyes and searching the crowd for her target. Slouched backwards, with her elbows on the counter, she watched the crowd, drowning out the music to keep it from distracting her.

"Well, who have we got here!"

Paige curbed the urge to jump, turning her head smoothly to the source of the voice, looking up at the white speaker through her long eyelashes, "Oh, look. Just the program I was looking for."

Castor smiled, rolling his shoulders and tapping his cane on the floor, "Ah, ex-commander Paige. I must say, it is an honor to have such a rebel grace my presence."

The tone of his words seemed to indicate that it was actually an honor for _her _to be in his presence, but Paige simply rose to her feet crossing her arms.

"I've heard a lot about this _'Zuse' _you work with. He has connections in every place."

A flicker of resignation passed through the other man's energy-blue eyes, "AH, I see. You want to get away, is that right? Well, where are you running to? Perhaps we can come to some sort of...hmmm, mutually beneficial agreement, yes? I've heard _so _much about the legendary commander's ability to get the person she's after."

Paige shook her head, "I'm already after someone...but he's taken refuge in the Outlands, as well as several other dangers to society, and I can't...I don't have the necessary knowledge to survive out there for an extended period of time...I need a guide."

Castor grinned, a sparkle of mischief and curiosity in his eyes, "Would this certain someone be the legendary _Renegade of Argon_? Oooh, I've heard the rumors running along the Grid, commander. I doubt they're true though, knowing your history," he pursed his lips, one finger on his jawline as he tilted his head with a look of mock disappointment, his eyes insinuating all she needed to know. Enraged, she docked her double disks in a flash, activating them and slamming them into the counter.

"What about my history?"

Castor grinned, as if excited by her outburst, waving it off, "Never mind, never mind. You know, I think I know just the program to help you. But first, _darling _I need a favor from you."

"What's that?"

Castor laughed, jerking his hands up to give a small clap, "I just need you to make sure that the Renegade of Argon gets back to Zuse alive...not necessarily in one piece, but definitely alive."

Paige paused, slightly confused by his terms, "What would Zuse want with the Renegade?"

"Oh, quite a few things, my dear, dear, girl, but none of which concern you."

Her anger flared again and she yanked her disks out of the counter, holding them activated at her side, "I think they do. My Renegade, my concern."

Castor chuckled, "My dear, when you say it like that, you make the rumors seem true. You've no need to worry!"

"No. I'm turning the Renegade in to Clu. Not you."

"Good luck staying alive in the Outlands to find him. Oh, well, I can always get someone else to get him for me."

The words flamed her anger, but she wisely curbed it, aswaging the irritation. With a sigh, she turned her disks off, docking them on her back once more and crossing her arms.

"Fine. This guide better be a hell of a good one."

Castor's white face split into a wide smile, "Oh, he is."

Beck quietly snuck into the apartment building, barely able to keep his exhausted feet from dragging on the floor. Climbing the stairs up to the apartment he shared with five other programs, he tiredly opened the door to a hubbub of whispers and quiet murmurs. Four heads turned from a map spread out on the living room wall to him, and he awkwardly waved, jumbled threads of his panic attack gripping at him (at least he knew that they weren't going to drag him under for a while now).

"Jet, get over here, we need you to-"

"No. Sorry guys, I just can't do anything for a while. I need some R&R before I can be out in the field again," he responded, ignoring the fact that the nickname they used for him made him long for something he didn't know.

Banes, a tall, blonde woman with sparkling blonde eyes and a wisdom beyond that of the other programs, shook her head, "Beck, sweetie, we need you to try to get in to see Zuse again."

Beck sighed, hanging his head, "I can't do that, I still owe him."

"For what?" Teller stepped in, tall and dark. Beck bit back the memories of Cutler that the man revived within him.

"Remember the mess we had with the gang master last kilocycle? Castor somehow got Zuse to pull strings and save our sorry a-"

"Didn't you pay him back when you fixed the elevator?" the youngest of the group spoke up, a former mechanic as well(but not from Argon).

Beck deadpanned at the kid, who shrunk in his chair. Banes sighed and shook her head, "Jet, this is important. Zuse can unite the factions of revolution all over the Grid and give us a fighting chance at winning this. Don't you want that?"

The pain that flickered in his eyes was all too evident and he fought it back down, not wanting to prolong the effects of his panic attack; he sighed, and straightened the collar of his jacket, noticing in regret the minimal light lines on his clothes. In Argon, the lines had represented a program's personality, becoming a symbol of who they were – not unlike a name. Mara's name conjured up a very precise definition of her fiery, loving nature and Zed's brought memories of bad jokes and easy comradeship with no questions asked. So did the patterns of their light lines.

Losing his completely had been necessary, but it had hurt to let go, again, of something that had defined him for so long.

"Jet-boy?"

"Fine. I'll go. But when I get back, I'm going straight to bed, damn the revolution," and with that he spun around and slammed the door, slightly irked at losing his time to unwind from the harrowing moment in the Outlands a few hours ago.

_Jet-boy._

The nickname was pretty straight forward. It had started when he first had met them. Swooping in as Teller and two others(the girls he had snuck out of the city earlier today, in fact) were overwhelmed by Clu's forces, he had tossed them each a light jet before proceeding to gracefully knock out the remainder of the guards.

Taking off with his own light-jet and motioning for the others to follow, he lead them far away from the recognizers, to the edge of the city.

"_So do you have a name, or are we gonna have to give you one?"_

_Beck raised an eyebrow behind his mask, shrugging impassively, "I suggest you get back home before curfew starts."_

_One of the women chuckled, "Looks like we're gonna have to name him, Teller."_

_The tall, dark skinned man glanced at the jet in his hand and smirked, "Alright, let's name him Jet-Boy."_

_Had the words not rattled in his chest and poked open a hole he hadn't known could exist, he would have laughed as well. Instead, he derezzed his helmet, crossing his arms._

"_My name is Beck."_

_The other woman chuckled, "He's cute. I like Jet better though."_

_Her friend punched her arm, snorting, "Shush you. Though I agree."_

_Teller waved them off, turning to Beck, "What's your stance on this? Why did you save us?"_

_Beck took a deep breath, still freshly wounded from Argon's destruction, and perhaps a little too reckless because of that, "I'm here to take the fight all the way to Clu."_

Automatically marching across the city until he made his way to the End of Line Club, he barely noticed when he crashed into another program, sending the other person stumbling backwards.

"Hey, watch it."

"Sorry."

The elevator ride numbed him, nearly putting him to sleep before finally stopping at the top. Walking in, he peeled off one of his fingerless gloves, shoving his palm into the security program's face to show him the hidden tattoo that marked him as a person that had business with Zuse or Castor. The security program snorted at his sloppiness, waving him in.

Pulling the glove back on, he awkwardly wove his way around the other programs, nearly tripping ("_Your stance is all over the place, Beck, straighten up."_) on someone's feet before he made it to the bar, glancing at the hole in the counter in mild curiosity before making his way to one of the smaller booths in the back, sitting in one rigidly to prevent his drowsiness from taking over.

"AHA!"

The near shout sent his energy into high-gear, making him pull his disk before he knew what had happened. A flicker of surprise passed over the white face in front of him, and he sheepishly docked his disk again.

"Sorry. Rough work cycle."

An almost flirtatious smile graced Castor's lips(Beck had noticed he used this look with everyone, no matter the gender or programming), "Really now?"

"Listen, my friends and I, you know our cause, our reasons why. Can't you get in a few good words for us, at the very least? Pull some strings like you did for us that last time?"

"Oh...The time you still owe me, young program?" Castor grinned. Beck's shoulders slumped, almost imperceptibly; to be called a young program after all he had seen and all he had done...

"Y-yes. But-"

"You look absolutely terrible."

"..._Thanks."_

Castor chuckled, waving his cane towards a service program, who scurried over with her platter of energy drinks. The blue eyed, white haired program fluttered her eyes at him, leaving Beck internally flustered as Castor popped a green drink in his hand, and collected one of his own.

"On the house."

Beck glanced at the drink, noticing it's powerful sweet smell and knew that this was a highly intoxicating drink. Some tired part of him wanted it, but he wisely set it back down, "Will I owe you the drink as well now?"

Castor laughed, throwing his head back and making tiny, fine wrinkles around his eyes, "Oh, no, in a kilocycle or so, your debt should be paid in full, my dear friend."

Beck perked up, "What do you mean?"

"I'll let your partner explain," Castor turned and motioned for Beck to follow him as he sidled up to a program at the bar, sipping away at the same green drink Castor had offered him.

The female was wearing a cropped jacket lined with primary white circuits and secondary green circuits, and high heels. From the angle at which they approached her, he could see that the suit underneath the jacket was sleeveless and swooped low to show just a hint of cleavage. Ignoring that part, he glanced up toward her face, covered by her shoulder length brown hair.

"Commander, may I introduce you to your guide and survival expert?"

The woman turned toward them, her bangs falling over half her face and obscuring most of the side Beck could see from view.

But despite the mask of hair and the change in wardrobe, he recognized her instantly, breath blown away at the realization

Paige.

Paige turned towards Castor's voice, surprised to see a familiar face standing next to him. Immediately, she tensed, fear at seeing something familiar, something dangerous, coiling her muscles, but she relaxed when her mind finally slapped a name and a memory on the face.

Beck.

She stood, surprised to see him _alive_, and well after Argon. Her first urge was to hug the program that had been so kind and understanding to her back when things were just a fraction of a bit simpler than now. But both because of her image as a stoic, independent soldier, and because of the transformation of Beck's expression from one of bored curiosity to near tears to murderous rage, she held back.

"_You,_" a program had no right to sound as heartbroken and...broken as he did with that one word.

"Me..." she responded, a genuine fear creeping at her spine. Beck was no longer the open, flirtatious and mature program she had known two cycles ago. And she couldn't blame him. She wondered how he had survived Argon, and if that was why he hated her so much now.

In a flash, he pulled his disk and swung it at her with a cry, missing her by the breadth of a hair. At the challenge of battle, her emotions collapsed into the recesses of her mind and she drew her disks, splitting them in half and holding them up in protection.

"_Stop!"_

The whisper carried enough anger that it stilled both opponents. Castor threw his arms in the air, motioning towards the guards stirring in the club.

"Are you trying to get yourselves thrown in the games?!"

"You! You _destroyed _Argon! You killed thousands, maybe even millions of programs!" Beck docked his disk, stalking towards her, his tall, broad frame towering over her as in the distance, Castor shrunk away, watching the two with piqued interest. Paige bit back the pain at the memory of Argon, and crossed her arms in defiance. She would not be intimidated by a mechanic; she was a soldier.

"_I _didn't do that."

"Oh, wait, that's right. Clu, chasing after perfection, did. Whom _you _fight for!" Beck suddenly deflated, shoulders slumping as he stepped away from her, suddenly looking incredibly small for such a tall, broad-shouldered program. Conflicting emotions raced across the young man's face before he turned to Castor, "I'm sorry. No. I can't work with her..."

"Beck," she docked her disks, stepping towards him and flinching at the way he recoiled from her, "There's more to the story than you know."

His eyes were cold when they met hers again, almost the exact same shade of brown, "I doubt it, Commander."

He turned away, as Castor watched on amusedly; Paige breezed past the host, following Beck as he wove his way out of the club.

"Beck, wait."

Barely managing to make it to the elevator in time, she crossed her arms and stared at the mechanic, as he slumped against the wall. Long moments of uninterrupted silence extended on as Paige pointedly stared at him and he pointedly ignored her.

He sighed, crossing his arms, "I'm sorry for attacking you like that."

"...It's understandable..."

"What are you doing here, Paige? Shouldn't you be a General now, in charge of your own miniature army?" he seemed dejected now, instead of murderously furious. Paige tried to reconcile this stranger in front of her with the program she had met in Argon.

"I rebelled."

His spiked head jerked up, making eye contact, "Somehow that's hard for me to believe."

Paige sighed, pulling off her outer disk and tracing a finger around the edge, "I couldn't...I couldn't just stand by and watch them die, it...Even Tesler thought it was excessive..."

"Is that his?"

Paige faltered for a moment, before nodding, "I figured it would be a way to honor him...keep him in combat, so to speak."

Beck snorted, and she glared at him. He held up his hands, "Sorry. I just didn't know he meant that much to you."

The woman hummed slightly, her circuits flickering with her fluctuating emotions.

"So...supposedly, during the time Argon's citizens were derezzing themselves in desperation, you rebelled. Then what?"

"I saved as many as I could..." Paige docked the disk again, her expression hardening, "Became an enemy of the state..."

"So now you're helping the Revolution?"

"NO. It was the uprising in Argon that lead to it's destruction-"

"It was Clu's violence and hatred that destroyed Argon."

Paige frowned, "If Argon hadn't stood up the way it did, Clu would have had no reason to destroy it."

Beck smouldered in his corner, shaking his head, "Fine, then. Believe what you want. Why do you need me now?"

Paige bowed her head, sighing as she crossed her arms, realizing that he wouldn't help her with her task. It was better, she reassured herself, she wouldn't have to worry about him changing his mind and derezzing her in her sleep.

"Because I've been tracking the Renegade. He need to pay for what he did to Argon, for not being responsible enough to-"

"Shoulder the burden of an entire city relying on you to keep them safe, and only you..." Beck finished, soundly broken again, before sighing, "Don't you think maybe he's already paying? The loss of an entire city is..."

"He's still fighting back, Beck. I don't know why, but he keeps appearing and pulling off insane missions-"

Beck hid a wry smile at the thought of the 'insane' missions. Perhaps that's why they didn't like to have him lead more often...He had been particularly reckless during the first few kilocycles after Argon. Although he'd like to think he had become more responsible since then.

"-and endangering these programs by making them think it's worth getting derezzed to take down Clu. I just wish you could see, I'm only trying to maintain a balance here. He's dangerous, Beck."

The elevator dinged, and opened to allow them to depart. Beck stood up, turning towards Paige, speaking softly, "Maybe you're right...But I can't help you. I'm sorry."

The woman sighed, nodding, "I understand."

And she did. Seeing her, representative of CLU, of the program that had destroyed Argon and burned scars into every remaining survivor(including herself) would only serve to drive a wedge into the scars. She wouldn't do that to the program. She owed him that much.

"Take care, Commander."

"You too, Beck."

* * *

**So, yeah, maybe the end seems a bit anti-climatic, and maybe Beck is a little bit out of character in attacking Paige, but he's suffering from Post-Traumatic-Stress-Syndrome, which I think would only be natural after feeling responsible for Argon and being able to do close to nothing as the programs massacred themselves by trying to escape through the canyon. PTSD often causes unexplained violent feelings against others, and in Beck's case, he reacted to it. :/ As for Paige, even though she broke up with him, she still cares for him and doesn't wish to cause him any worse emotional harm by staying around him.**

**Next Chapter, hopefully, will be a little more exciting. BARTIK ARRIVES. And we see how he gets that scar on his face that we see in Legacy. ^^ Ta Ta for Now! **


End file.
